


Perfectionist

by Purpletears



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drunk Blow Jobs, Inexperienced Sexual Encounters, M/M, Oikawa in Denial about his sexuality, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpletears/pseuds/Purpletears
Summary: It's possible he's had a little too much beer.It's possible he's had a little too much Oikawa.It's possible that nothing innocent is happening tonight.





	Perfectionist

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone that is subscribed to my account, HI! 
> 
> I hope that everyone enjoys this piece, I've become unhealthily obsessed with the UshiOi Pairing so I decided to make my own one-shot. 
> 
> Leave comments and kudos if you like!
> 
> (Comment your favorite line...)

"Ushiwaka." The window is broken, and all the doors are open to catch what little breeze there is—this is what he gets for coming to Oikawa’s dorm. He is half surprised Oikawa’s roommates haven’t woken because of the commotion they have caused. Sweat glistens at Oikawa's hairline and in the shadowed hollows of his neck. As Ushijima watches, a little bead breaks loose to glide down the column of his throat. Ushijima wants to lick it. Wants to lick Oikawa all over.

It's possible he's had a little too much beer.

It's possible he's had a little too much Oikawa.

"Ushiwaka," Oikawa says again. His voice is thick and slow, syrupy with the accent he used to take so much care to hide. "I'm not gay."

Ushijima blinks slowly, thinking he can't possibly have heard Oikawa correctly. Then he looks down at where Oikawa is pressing him into the wall. "Then stop kissing me."

Color floods up under pale, freckled skin—a little less pale and a little more freckled than usual after a day and a half in the sun and surf. Oikawa's eyes drop down behind lowered lids and curled eyelashes. "No." He sounds stifled. "I mean... I've never... I don't..." He looks up again, huge cool eyes that Ushiwaka wants to fall into like the ocean. He's so busy staring at Oikawa's eyes, in fact, that he doesn't take Oikawa's meaning until Oikawa's fingers brush across his denim-covered cock.

It's as unsure and tentative as the first time Sakura Wyomi did the same thing when he was fourteen. The almost-virginal quality of it makes Ushijima curse thickly, blood heating to something molten and unstable. Ushijima grabs Oikawa by the belt and shirt and whirls, turning Oikawa to the wall instead. Oikawa's eyes widen but he doesn't fight back, lets Ushijima push him how he wants him.

Submissive.

"We're not kids, Oikawa." Ushijima presses into Oikawa, letting him feel Ushijima's cock grinding against his own. "Don't play games. How far are you planning to take this? How far do you want me to go?"

"I don't know." Oikawa's hands writhe at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them. To listen to him, Ushijima guesses Oikawa doesn't, at that. "I didn't plan this. I didn't think about it past 'Take me home' and your tongue down my throat."

"Well, I have," Ushiwaka says, in the same rugged, rough tone. "I've thought about it a lot, Oikawa."

Oikawa swallows, and like that strange-intense fourteen-year-old love that fixates on every insignificant detail, Ushiwaka watches his Adam's apple bob unsteadily under smooth, edible skin.

He really wants to bite that skin. Mark it up, messy red imprints of possession. It's Ushiwaka's turn to swallow through the flooding wetness of his mouth, fighting to think above the siren song of his libido.

"I'm not saying I need you to be my boyfriend, or lover or whatever the fuck they're calling it these days, but don't fuck around, Oikawa. Don't come into my bed and then hate me for it tomorrow."

"I don't." Oikawa looks annoyed Ushijima would even suggest it. "I won't."

Ushijima takes a step back, sharp and deliberate. Caught off-guard, Oikawa almost pitches forward, used to Ushijima's presence and weight against his. Ushijima spreads his hands. "So, what do you want to do?"

“No. What do you want me to do Captain?”

“_Oikawa_.” He replied sternly, not willing to argue.

Oikawa's tongue steals out, pink and pointed, to swipe across the fullness of his mouth like a deep but unconscious thirst. "I don't..." Ushijima raises an eyebrow and Oikawa bristles again, backbone showing through a lust filled-gaze. "My mouth," Oikawa says, sounding more definitive. "I want you... Can I…?"

Ushijima closes his eyes, a thrill-shiver running through him like a copper pipe. How long's he been waiting and waiting for those words to come from Oikawa's mouth? How many restless, itchy dreams, like a pubescent teen just figuring out what his dick's for? "Yeah, Oikawa. I think we can do that."

Oikawa’s bedroom is dark, but not pitch black. Ushijima shucks out of his clothes and straightens to finds Oikawa staring at him, looking like a startled deer. Ushijima's aches all the way to his bones with the want of Oikawa, but he sighs and sits down slowly on the edge of his bed. "Oikawa. We don't have to do this—if you don’t want to."

Oikawa still looks dazed when his eyes come up to Ushijima's, but it transforms quickly into fierce annoyance, creasing a line between his eyebrows, turning his mouth stubborn. "I just." Oikawa comes deeper into the room, bare feet slurring across the carpet. When he drops to his knees, Ushijima's whole skin suddenly feels too tight, like he was covered in saran wrap and he couldn't move or speak to save his life. Oikawa Tooru on his knees, God. "I'm not scared," Oikawa insists, settling his hands-on Ushijima's naked knees. In semi-darkness, he looks young. _So damn young_. Younger than Ushijima looks.

Half the time, Ushijima tells himself that Oikawa isn’t a fifteen-year-old boy anymore but an eighteen-year-old student, like him so he can lust over him.

And he does lust.

"I just want to touch you. All over, I want to touch you."

"So, what's stopping you?"

Oikawa's face pinches tight but his fingers close around Ushijima's ankles, inching slowly and ticklishly up Ushijima's legs. Oikawa's palms curve around Ushijima's knee, thumbs drifting up and across the inner bones. He's not even touching anything good yet and Ushiwaka feels burdened, oversaturated, filled with something hotter and more unpredictable than just blood.

And then Oikawa touches him with that mouth.

Again, it's innocent, harmless—if one man putting his lips on another man's leg can be said to be completely innocent. There's nothing sexual about it, except in the way that every fucking thing Oikawa does is sexual.

Oikawa moves one hand to Ushijima's stomach, making him suck it in reflexively in general self-consciousness that isn’t needed because he is in peak physical condition. But Oikawa only pushes, urging Ushijima back. Ushijima props himself on his elbows, not wanting to miss anything, not a single moment.

The soft scrape of even white teeth, crisping against wiry leg hair; Ushijima jumps. When Oikawa's mouth nuzzles against the ache of his cock, Ushijima can't help reaching for him, fingers skidding through short, product-slippery hair to curl around the solid fragility of Oikawa's skull. "Oikawa." The word is involuntary, an almost unintelligible grunt jerked out of him by the pure reaction.

"What?" Oikawa lifts his head, big eyes bulging. The swollen, slick messiness of his mouth, pink as if glossed, stabs deep into Ushijima's libido, pure porn—displayed right in front of him.

Ushijima huffs a laugh, ruffling Oikawa's hair and down onto his cheek where emerging stubble prickles his palm. Oikawa takes everything so seriously. "It's good," he says, unable to bring his voice up from the same throat-scraping growl. His hips flex up like Oikawa is gravity and he's just an orbiting body. "God, don't stop."

Oikawa laughs, one brief eye-crinkle before he bends again, wet, voluptuous lips with more hunger than skill. And that—that Oikawa is hungry and hungry for him—it goes to Ushijima's head like nitrous, bending it back on his neck, bending his whole body back as he melts slowly, anchored only by that one hand curling around Oikawa's bobbing head.

"Jesus Christ, Oikawa, Jesus Christ…"

And Ushijima's had better blow jobs, probably. More expert ones, for sure. But he can't remember ever feeling so aware of it: someone's lips rubbing, someone's tongue licking, hard sucks from the back of the throat and the brief catch of teeth that teeters on the edge between delicious and terrifying. He's so conscious that its Oikawa's mouth dragging every embarrassing whimper and desperate, pleading grunt out of him.

And then Oikawa pulls off.

Ushijima's head jerks up like a spring. "I'm going to—" He surprises himself with how absolutely serious that comes out, gravelly and dangerous, “Kill you.”

"I want…" Oikawa leans his forehead against Ushijima's thigh and Ushijima can't tell whether it's Oikawa's just out of breath or whether he can't look Ushijima in the eye. "Would you fuck my mouth?" It comes out half-drunken, almost, mouth becoming muffled, my only hinted at. "I've been thinking about it—all this time" Oikawa's forehead scrubs across Ushijima's leg as Oikawa shakes his head, as though he's trying to deny the words tripping off his lips.

"Yes, Oikawa, like that." Ushijima shivers, cool, sweet ripple from the tip of his spine to the tips of his toes, a lingering tingle. He closes his fingers tight in Oikawa's short hair, tugging, dragging Oikawa's head up. Oikawa's eyes are half-lidded but not so much that Ushijima can't see how stoned he looks, still panting hard, mouth half-open. Ushiwaka shudders again and then takes hold of his cock, offering it up as he coaxes Oikawa's head down, still leaving him plenty of play for Oikawa to change his mind. "C'mon Tooru. Take it all. Swallow it all"

Oikawa flutters in a shiver and then he's swallowing Ushijima down again, moaning thickly in the back of his throat—it feels natural for both of them. Against his calf, Ushijima feels Oikawa's arm jerk in frantic motions, stroking himself as Ushijima rubs himself against those plush-firm lips, easing himself deeper.

Ushijima reminds himself—forcibly and insistently—that this is Oikawa's first time, muscles hard and trembling with the effort not to thrust all the way into the tightness of Oikawa's throat. Clumsily, Ushijima caresses Oikawa's cheek, fingers tucked under the ridge of the skull. "God…your mouth…that’s not natural"

Oikawa sounds, a childlike noise, eager and whining, and the light friction of his arm against Ushiwaka's leg picks up pace. Ushijima takes that—and the renewed sucking pressure of Oikawa's lips—like permission to fuck Oikawa's mouth a little harder, nudge a little deeper, constant, wet friction that thrills along his dick, up to his spine.

He's close, desire sunk down into his bones. He wants to come in Oikawa's mouth, feel Oikawa drink him, thumb the dirty remnants from his bottom lip and then lick him clean. But that seems a lot to ask for the first time around, so he strokes the close-grained skin behind Oikawa's ear, pushing a little with his palm on Oikawa's hollowed cheek. "Oik.. Oikawa—"

Oikawa ignores him. More than ignores him, pressing himself down on Ushiwaka's cock until Ushiwaka can feel Oikawa's throat closing around him, loud, greedy sucks only barely drowned out by Oikawa's accompanying moans.

"Fuck, Oikawa—" It's the last warning Ushiwaka can give and it's all but useless as the first pulse wrings out of him, too intense to even feel good. Ushiwaka lets go of Oikawa entirely, fisting his hand in the bedspread until his knuckles crackle.

Oikawa sucks Ushijima dry and soft before he lets Ushiwaka's cock slip from his mouth. Ushijima can barely hear above the harsh pounding of his blood in his ears, but he manages to scratch out, "Oikawa. Come up here."

Oikawa's face is pressed against the inside of Ushijima's thigh, his mouth panting hot and damp against Ushijima's skin. Ushijima feels every jerk of Oikawa's body into his fist, the buzz of Oikawa's gasping moans.

Ushijima gives up trying to move and just lets his fingers rest on Oikawa's head, weak strokes that nonetheless make Oikawa shudder like he has a fever.

The first hot scald of Oikawa's come splashing against Ushijima's ankle makes Ushijima's dick twitch, makes him wish he was double-jointed so he could twist up and watch Oikawa come. "Good," Ushijima murmurs, drowsiness pressing on him like a weight. "So fucking good, Tooru."

When Oikawa's stopped shaking, Ushijima taps his skull again. "Come here."

Ushijima reels back and Oikawa just crawls straight up Ushijima's body, moving slow and languorously. He settles over Ushijima, their legs entangled together and Ushijima thrums down Oikawa's back for the pure pleasure of feeling that delicate little shiver. Oikawa's face tucks into Ushijima's neck between his jaw and shoulder, mouth still moving in soft, little sucks against the skin.

"You do that pretty good for a straight guy," Ushijima lectures.

Oikawa sniffs in surprise and then laughs. "I don’t know, I'm kind of a perfectionist. I think my method needs some work." His hand slips down, fingers curling gently around Ushijima's cock, thumb circling the ridge. "Lucky I got you to practice on, huh?"

Ushijima nuzzles his cheek against the bristle of Oikawa’s ‘natural’ hair. "Yeah. Lucky."


End file.
